


Harlem Nights

by nondirmiche



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Angst, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Very Heavy, i’m a terrible person, you’re gonna cry hopefully
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-04-23 19:15:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14339226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nondirmiche/pseuds/nondirmiche
Summary: Angst Craquaria inspired by Brooklyn Nights - Lady Gaga. Enjoy the suffering.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I’m so sorry.

**Harlem Nights - Prologue**

 

 

Giovanni Palandrani hasn’t been wearing his ring for a long time. Being 30 and already divorced sounds like a failure in his ears, as he tries to prevent the tears from falling down on his cheeks. It’s raining dogs and cats that night as he walks down the streets of Harlem, Manhattan, trying to go back home without being completely soaking wet.

He stops by a street corner that’s luckily covered enough to allow him to close his umbrella and look through his bag, searching for his phone. But he touches something that makes him freeze: his heart seems to stop in his chest and his whole body shivers, but not from the cold air.

“Impossible”, he mutters as he takes the keychain out: it’s a tiny heart made in red leather, very old, very worn out. The stitches that keep the heart together are loosing up, falling apart, and he can see the red dye fading out on the sides.

“He has a weird sense of humor”, Giovanni thinks as he scratches the keychain and sniffs it, but the scent has completely disappeared. He smiles bitterly: it’s been a long time. “How did they get here, jerk?”, he mumbles as he opens up his umbrella and starts walking in the opposite direction, trying not to cry. Tears of sadness or perhaps something else?

Giovanni doesn’t want to go back there, but that someone has decided for him. As he walks, runs almost, to that old house in Harlem, all the memories come back to him. He’s desperate, he’s completely destroyed, but at the same time hope starts growing in his heart. He reaches the front door and he opens it, at first struggling to force the keys in that rusty keyhole, his wet fingers slipper on the doorknob until he’s finally inside.

The hall is cold and feels abandoned, even if he knows damn well that his landlady still lives there: that old woman wouldn’t have never left that place until her dying day. Giovanni cautiously takes the stairs trying to be as quiet as possible, step after step with his long, slender legs, flexible as a cat.

The first floor is almost completely dark, with the exception of a single buzzing neon light in the center of the ceiling. He slowly walks to the third door on the left and inserts the other key attached to the leather keychain: it’s smaller, the key logo consumed by years of fingers sliding on them. The doors opened with a familiar click and a not so familiar squeaking sound, proof that nobody has cared to lubricate the joints in a long time. Seeing the apartment for the first time in what feels like centuries makes him hold his breath.

It’s kinda hard not to cough from the dust and dirt, but he does his best not to make any sudden noise. He turns on the flashlight on his phone, looking around: everything looks abandoned, old and forgotten. He could really cry right now, but he doesn’t want to: it hurts too much, tears wouldn’t calm him down.

Giovanni can hear the floor screeching lightly under his feet as he approached the bedroom and he’s very careful not to step on any weird spot: it’s like he’s moving on fragile paper. But isn’t that the way he’s lived for the last seven years?

The letter is waiting for him on the dark wooden dresser: he can’t say he wasn’t expecting that. He opens the envelope with trembling fingers and breaths out hard and heavy when he reads the first two words, written in Maxwell’s precise handwriting: “Dear Gio”.


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s Evelyn! Sorry for the short chapters, but I can’t make them longer because I want to keep a certain pace. Thank you so much for reading this!

**Harlem Nights - First Chapter**

 

Giovanni Palandrani doesn’t usually wear a ring. He has a great sense of fashion for sure, but jewelry… not really his cup of tea. Never thought of buying a gold or silver necklace, never went getting his face pierced to flash gems on ears, nose, mouth. His physical appearance is rather dull in general today, as he goes apartment hunting in the city of his dreams (and his childhood): the Big Apple.

 

As much as he would love to, though, he can’t afford to rent a luxurious penthouse in TriBeCa, or a cute apartment in the Upper East Side. Sure, his parents in Calabria sent him money, but they’re barely enough to pay the college tuition, let alone rent a beautiful house. He has then decided to focus on cheaper flats, maybe find a roommate, someone not too annoying but not too friendly either as he has to study hard and constantly, someone quiet, someone like…

 

“Hello!”, the girl says as she opens the door. She’s petite, Asian, with long and flows dark brown hair and a flashy smile. “I’m Yuhua!”, she exclaimed as she shakes Giovanni’s hand enthusiastically, “Welcome to my home sweet home. Excuse the mess…”, she mutters.

 

The Mess seems more like what is left of a perfectly normal apartment after a bomb explosion, Giovanni states as he enters. Too loud, too small, too much in general. He just wants to run away and scream, but he manages to stay calm and smile politely throughout the entire visit. Yuhua is nice but again, too loud. He needs peace. A place in New York that he can call home again. Giovanni exits the house with a kind “Thanks, I’ll let you know”, but judging from the look on Yuhua’s cute face, she knows they’ll never see each other again.

 

———————

 

It’s almost 6 pm when Giovanni decides that’s all for the day: he’s seen five different apartments and not a single one of them was perfect. That Dustin guy’s flat was literally a dusty hell, and the bald Russian man’s place was cute and artistic but definitely too expensive for his wallet. He sighs and puts his phone away, but as soon as it enters his pocket it starts vibrating furiously. “What is it now…”, he groans as he checks the notifications; he just wants to go back to his hotel and watch the new The Good Fight episode at this point.

 

It seems like someone is willing to share an apartment less than half a mile from where he currently is: it’s between a police station, a hospital and a firefighters station… definitely not boring at all. He laughs softly as he keeps reading the ad: “Hi”, it says, “Are you looking for a nice and comfy -Giovanni rolls his eyes at comfy, but smiles right afterwards- place to spend your next years in the Big Apple? I got you covered! Come and have a chat with me, you won’t regret it!”, and then a few pictures of the place attached.

 

It’s cute indeed, definitely not big but not claustrophobic either, very tidy and well put-together, with wide windows and, most importantly, a wooden bookshelf filled with many volumes and a couple of vinyls. It seems like this person has a culture in both literature and music, which is a very nice touch to the overall intriguing presentation. The monthly rent is okay too, just a little bit borderline expensive for him, but it doesn’t cost anything to go check it out.

 

Giovanni is about to lock the phone screen and start walking towards the place when he reads the name at the end of the ad: Maxwell Heller. “What?”, he actually says out loud, startling an old manwho is walking past him. “I’m sorry”, he mutters as he tries to breathe and reads the ad a couple of times more. It isn’t actually him… is it? There is only one way to find out.

 

With his heart practically ripping his chest apart, Giovanni rushes to the apartment almost flying, panting loudly when he finally gets to the infamous door. All of his childhood memories come back to him as he hesitantly sends a private message to Maxwell, saying that he has reached the building. He’s shaking as he waits for the answer, which is sudden anyway: just a simple okay written in all caps lock.

“I’m coming!”, Giovanni hears shouting from inside the house. Then the door opens: “Wow, you were fast, welco-” and then Maxwell’s voice dies in his throat as he looks at the tall, slender guy at his door with eyes wide open. “Giovanni?”, he stutters as his visitor smiles shy and emotional.

“Ehy Max… it’s been a long time, isn’t it”.

His eyes water fast: “You sly motherfucker. You left me 13 years ago and you come here now all of a sudden? Come inside before I hug you and I never let you go”.

Giovanni obeys; they both don’t let go for a long time.


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody, this is Evelyn! I wanna thank you all for all the love for my past fics and this one, and a big kiss from my right hand man Lance whose I have a Crush On is going so well and I couldn’t be prouder. Hope you all enjoy this one too!

Giovanni Palandrani would honestly love to wear a ring: maybe one given as a cute and thoughtful present by someone special, someone important. Maxwell isn’t wearing one when they meet each other for the first time after years and years of void. He makes them tea and they sit down at his table, warm and happy like they haven’t been feeling in a long time. 

“I can’t get over the gag of seeing you here, Gio!”, Max says dropping a sugar cube into his cup, “You have to tell me everything”. His friend smiles bacon, warming up his hands on the steaming hot mug, and starts talking: “Well, what could we say… I went away. Back to Italy. Very suddenly, very rushed, but my parents decided so and I was ten, so what could I say about it, you know”.

“I can’t believe it’s been thirteen fucksinf years, oh my God. And I still managed to recognize you… you still have the same stupid old face”, says Max laughing softly, and then he burns his tongue with the hot tea. “Karma”, is Giovanni’s only comment, made without even looking up from the cup. “Anyway, I had fun there, I went to arts high school and I loved the weather and the food… the food, Max, unbelievable. Grandma sends me a package every month. You have to try the ‘nduja”. 

“What the fuck is that”, laughs Max, genuinely curious.  
“Oh, it’s like a super hot condiment. The spiciest. Directly from Calabria. You put it in your spaghetti and say hi to having a burning asshole for weeks… but it’s so damn good, trust me!”.  
“I like how enthusiastic you are about food”, Max says smiling, “But if you had that good of a time why did you leave? It doesn’t make sense to me”.  
Giovanni sighs heavily: “They have grate universities there, don’t get me wrong, but I felt like I had unfinished business here. And you’re part of them, the whole situation with you put me off, I wanted to come back so badly and reunite and say sorry”, he says looking at Max straight in the eyes. 

He places a tiny, bony hand on Giovanni’s lean thigh: “I’m so happy you’re here man. I couldn’t wait to see you again, honestly, I felt like this was going to happen but I wasn’t sure where and when, I tried to look you up on social media but I was scared you wouldn’t even recognize me”.  
“I felt the same thing, I was afraid you wouldn’t want to talk to me because I left. I’m kinda pissed at the fact that I could’ve talked to you for all this time and I didn’t, but now I’m here and I’m sky high”.

They stay quiet for a bit, both sipping their tea and glancing at each other. Giovanni’s eyes run all over his friend’s body, changed and matured after all the years apart. He’s still a tiny guy, but his features are sharper, with defined cheekbones, the classic Jewish nose and short brown hair. His foot shakes nervously, maybe a tic of some sort, and his slender fingers hug the hot mug like the legs of a spider. He’s so weirdly attractive, though. Giovanni’s pleasantly surprised, but tries to push the thought away from his mind. 

“What college do you want to go to? I mean, you’re twenty-three, right? You gotta hurry up!”, Max says out of the blue, breaking his chain of thoughts.  
“I know, I already filled out the application and they should send me a positive response in a matter of days. It’s the New York Institute if Design, though. I wanna do fashion”.  
“And you’re going to fashion college in jeans and a hoodie?”, laughs Max.  
“Ah, shut up dumbass. I had to be comfortable for today’s apartment hunting”.

Maxwell takes another sip of his tea: “Found anything good around here?”.  
“No, not really”, Giovanni sighs, “I mean, there was a cute place but definitely too expensive for me”.  
“I’m so sorry Gio”, says Maxwell, and the two exchange a timid smile. Giovanni wonders how did he survive all these years without the support of his dearest friend.

“Oh, but you came here for a reason, didn’t you? Wanna tour the place?”, asks Maxwell smiling wider, “Okay, tour is a strong word since my house it’s literally four rooms, but I mean, do you want to?”.  
Giovanni immediately lightens up: “I would love to. What about my cup?”.  
“Oh, leave it on the table… I’ll wash it later. C’mon”, says Maxwell getting up from the chair.  
“You’re still a shortie”, comments his friend teasing him, confronting their heights.  
“It’s not like you’re 6’2 or something!”.  
“At least I wasn’t used as a human model for the movie Arthur and the Invisibles”.  
“Oh, fuck off!”, Max wheezes, “Since when you’ve become this funny?”.  
Then he opens his arms: “Anyway, here’s the kitchen, but you’ve already seen it”, he says walking past the tiny kitchen space, waving at Giovanni to make him follow him. “And here’s the bedroom. I sleep in this queen-sized bed but I also have a sofa bed so no problem, right? If you want a proper one though we could always buy one and squeeze it somewhere so you don’t have to do and undo it every day, I can see why you wouldn’t want to do that…” Maxwell stutters.

Giovanni smiles, resting one hand on his friend’s shoulder: “Don’t worry, it’s perfect. I’m frugal”.  
“Ohhh, she’s different!”, Max says in a high pitched voice that makes Giovanni cackles.  
“By the way, these manly shoulders? How come you’re so tiny but ripped as fuck? What happened? I’m shocked!”.  
“Karate. Gosh, you don’t know about it…”, Max answers shaking his head, “I even won a goddamn gold medal at the national championship”.  
“What?! Step on me. For real?”, Giovanni exclaimes incredule, “Wow. That’s wonderful, so amazing. When did you start your training? I don’t remember you mentioning that when we were kids”.

Maxwell thinks about it for a couple of seconds: “I started the year you left. I had to fill up my days with something that didn’t remind me of you… it was hard at first. I mean, it’s always been hard”, he says with a bitter smile.  
Then he shows Giovanni the bathroom, suddenly quiet, but his friend has the urge to say something that comes straight from his heart: “I was completely destroyed, y’know”.  
Maxwell turns around to face him: his eyes are deep and brown and Giovanni could get lost in them.  
“I had to learn a new language, a new culture, and I didn’t even have you by my side. I was one scared ten year old. I missed you every day. I’m so sorry I haven’t reached out to you. I told you I thought I had been forgotten”, he says stepping closer to Max, “But now I’m here, we can… catch up. I don’t want to lose the best part of my childhood”.  
Giovanni can see his friend’s eyes watering: “I missed you so fucking much, you idiot!”.

And then they hug: it’s tight, tender, filled with unsaid words. Word that they don’t yet have the strength to tell each other, it’s too soon. It’s been so long since they’ve held each other like this, but it seems like not a single day has passed, they fit exactly in each other’s arms. They’re stil, those two kids who practically lived together, dressed up and played pretend, tag you’re it, watched Disney movies and the Rocky saga, and went to the same school to protect each other from nasty kids who tried to stole their lunches.  
Giovanni was the feisty one, the kid who wanted to be popular and chatted too loud in the classroom, who dressed colorful and always had top grades in arts and crafts. And then there was Maxwell, three years older than him, quiet, creative, but so competitive when it came to excel in every single class, precise, calm, ready to raise his hand at any question.  
They always had each other’s backs, and now it feels like home. It feels like a missing piece of their puzzles has been finally found. All these words stay untold but they know that nothing can keep them apart now. Except maybe…

“I want to move in with you Max! I really do. But I don’t have the money, I’m broke as fuck. Tell me what I have to do to lower the price, is there someone I can talk to…”, says Giovanni eagerly.  
Maxwell looks at him straight in the face: “Yes, there’s someone we can ask. But you won’t like it”.  
Giovanni laughs: “C’mon, who is it?”.  
“Miss Hudsen, the landlady”. Max is dead serious.  
“Aw, you’re just messing with me at this point. How terrible can she be?”.

————————

Maxine! Darling, how are you?”.  
Giovanni swallows heavily, trying not to laugh out loud. The expression on his friend’s face says it all: “Fine, thank you very much Miss Hudsen…”. “Please, come inside! And who’s this handsome young man here?”, she says enthusiastically pointing at Giovanni, who’s stayed silent the whole time.

“Giovanni Palandrani, I’m pleased to meet you Miss Hudsen”. “Ohhh, what a beautiful name! Are you Spanish?”. He frowns: “No, actually I’m Ita-”. “He’s Spanish! Definitely, aren’t you Gio?”, Max interrupts, poking him with his elbow. Miss Hudsen smiles and closes the door behind them and walks in the kitchen swinging her wide hips.

“Why didn’t you let me finish?”, whispers Giovanni.  
Maxwell gives him a concerning look: “She hates being wrong or corrected in general… play along, please”. Giovanni nods lightly: Spanish? Him? Italians do it better. 

“Why are you two up so late?”, Miss Hudsen asks sitting at her kitchen table, covered with the most awfully printed cloth humanity had ever seen. Both Giovanni and Maxwell glance at the kitten-themed clock hung on the wall: 8 pm. A simultaneous eye-roll is mandatory. Max puts on the best fake smile he can: “I came here to ask you something, actually. I’m sorry for the inconvenience”.  
“Ohw, you’re never annoying me Maxon”. Giovanni is about to gag again, and pronto covers his mouth with his hand, coughing lightly. Maxwell gives him a deadly look before explaining the situation to Miss Hudsen: “Giovanni would like to share the apartment with me, and since we would be using twice the electricity, water, etc etc, it would be too expensive for him, I was wondering if you could do me a favor and lower the price, we would be very grateful, he has nowhere to go…”.

“Oh my God, of course I can! We offer a special discount for couples, don’t you remember?”. Giovanni’s jaw drops and he looks at Maxwell a nervous laughter: “No, sorry, I didn’t… think about it…”.  
“You silly Maximilian. You should’ve told me you had such a gorgeous boyfriend!”, she says, making him turn bright red. “Don’t worry honey, I’ll handle the price. But now, you have to go, I gotta watch The Voice! Sleep tight!”.  
These are the last words Miss Hudsen tells them before basically pushing them out of her flat. Giovanni and Maxwell look at each other incredule: “So, we’re a couple now?”, Giovanni says in shock. Max is still blushing furiously: “Seems like it”.

A long, exhausting pause follows. Then Maxwell opens his arms and looks at him straight in his brown eyes: “Welcome to Harlem, new boyfriend”.


End file.
